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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30112785">with me, before me, behind me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl'>TolkienGirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>All That Glitters Gold Rush!AU: The Full Series [361]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Formenos, Gen, Gold Rush AU, Hating on the English, Irish heritage, St. Patrick's Day, Storytelling, title taken a bit from the prayer of St. Patrick, yes sometimes I write fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:42:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30112785</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I arise today<br/>Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,<br/>Through a belief in the Threeness,<br/>Through a confession of the Oneness<br/>Of the Creator of creation.</p><p>Or, the one where Feanor talks about driving out snakes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>All That Glitters Gold Rush!AU: The Full Series [361]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1300685</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>with me, before me, behind me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was an honor to sit on Athair’s knee at such a great age as five-near-six, and Maedhros knew it. He kept his spine straight and his hands on his knees. Athair had enough trouble as it was, balancing Maglor, who squirmed, and Celegorm, who could be contrary when he was expected to keep still.</p><p>Maedhros was the only one out of dresses by day, but there was little difference between the three of them at night, clad in long white night shirts that Mamaí stitched out of her leftover muslin. Three pairs of bare feet dangled pinkly above Athair’s knitted slippers.</p><p>Athair was telling a story.</p><p>“Now listen here, my shamrock leaves,” he said. Athair was always at his most Irish, his most <em>Grandfather</em>, when he was telling stories. “Saint Pádraig wasn’t any more afraid of the beasts of the earth, than he was of the foul Druid priests. The reptiles especially did be trying to coax and reason with him. ‘Pity on us, oh Saint!’ said they. ‘We’re cold-blooded, and we don’t move quick. How are we to keep away from your hearths and cradles? What life is there for us elsewise?’”</p><p>Athair paused there, dramatically. Maglor had given up wriggling. Celegorm was tucked between Athair’s legs, held up by Athair’s hands under his arms, and he was kicking his feet, not listening at all.</p><p><em>A baby</em>, thought Maedhros fondly, and he faltered a little in his stillness, scraping his nails against the muslin.</p><p>“What did he say to them?” Maglor asked, growing impatient.</p><p>“He said, ‘<em>Ach</em>, ye devils, there’s no life for you at all!’ Then he raised his crosier over them and set one foot in front of the other with more weight than you’d lay a brick today. Thus every serpent of the land, fearing a man of the Lord so revealed in his wrath, fled down to the cliffs and the beaches—and then into the sea.”</p><p>“Did they <em>drown</em>?” Maglor was scandalized.</p><p>Athair’s eyes twinkled, and his secret little smile, that Maedhros felt tingling inside his ribs, crept over his lips. “Alas, son, they did not. They swam across the brackish waters and populated the land they found on the other side.” The smile became a full grin, almost boyish. “And that’s how England came to be.”</p><p>“Feanor!” said Mamaí, putting down her sketchboard. Until now, Maedhros hadn’t been certain she was listening.</p><p>“It’s the proper way to tell the story, Nerdanel,” he protested. “Goodness, Celegorm, but you are growing very solid. Here, run to Mathair.”</p><p>Celegorm toddled off, the firelight from the hearth shining on his thick golden curls. It had been a cozy dinner; there was still crumbles of soda-bread on the platter. Maedhros liked soda-bread very much. He settled a little against Athair’s encircling arm.</p><p>Maglor was looking straight at him now, content that there was no longer a fat little body between them. “Celegorm still needs <em>milk</em>,” he murmured, as if Athair wouldn’t be able to hear him.</p><p>“He is young, yet,” said Athair. “And when he no longer needs milk, perhaps there shall be a new little brother or sister to play with.”</p><p>“Really?” Maedhros asked, eagerly. He loved when there was talk of babies.</p><p>“Feanor,” said Mamaí again, letting her breast out of its buttons for Celegorm. “You are being <em>very</em> fanciful tonight.”</p><p>“I’m entitled,” Athair said, thrusting his feet forward and letting Maedhros and Maglor slide a little down his thighs, as if they were two ships dipping between waves. He caught them before they tumbled off entirely. “We haven’t yet named a Pádraig, you know.”</p>
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